


the memory of the living

by purnell (domestichesters)



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: F/M, i'm bad at summaries please forgive my awful summary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-06-04 23:14:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6679333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domestichesters/pseuds/purnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's been thirty years. mark watney's dead and the crew has moved on. a recent mission has unearthed some evidence from the ares 3 site that might prove mark watney didn't actually die on sol 6, and the crew is asked to come in and look it over. </p><p>basically, an au where mark died on mars, just not on sol 6 when they all thought he did. the crew watches his logs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the memory of the living

it's been thirty years since the landing.

the crew stayed together for a year or two. they lived and worked near nasa's headquarters, made memories.

vogel left first, back to germany. martinez left second, took his wife and his kids and headed up north, to new york city.  
  
lewis left third, hers a long tearful goodbye stretching from the day she told johanssen over coffee one morning to the night of her flight out, consisting of hugs and long talks in empty offices. beck and johanssen took their turn not long after, packed their things and headed for the coast. they bought a bright blue house on the shore and had two beautiful baby girls. they overlooked the sea and every morning through their kitchen window they watched the waves rise and fall and that silence said more than words ever could.  
  
the five of them kept in touch. they sent videos and pictures of their families, of themselves. they had a group chat, too, filled with reminiscings and inside jokes and conversations about nothing in particular.

then they all had families of two or more and jobs with long hours. after a time, the videos and the pictures became fewer in number and the group chat slowly dwindled.

they still talked. christmas cards were exchanged as more than a formality, personalized with messages scrawled in sharpie marker. they called each other on their birthdays and sent presents of the variety that can only come from the friends who know you best. they visited each other every few years or so.  
  
it's been a while now. the visits have grown few and far between as they've aged. they haven't had reason enough to pack and fly elsewhere for only a day or two before heading back to work.   
  
when nasa calls and asks them all to fly in, they're happy. ecstatic. they have reason enough, now, reason enough to pack themselves and endure the aches that come with age and fly in near nasa's headquarters and see each other again. they're so happy, so ecstatic, they forget to ask why they're being asked to fly in, exactly.  
  
johanssen and beck fly in first. they were asked to come in at five so they spend their morning walking around nearby. they walk over to the watney memorial and they hang their heads. vogel and martinez had the same layover in atlanta, so they fly in second, together. they find beck and johanssen and exchange hugs and gifts and there's lots of laughing. lewis lands next, and they're all happy to see her up and about because they know she's been pretty sick. they get to talking and it's just like old times. they get lunch. they talk about their kids and their jobs. they tell stories and before they know it it's five o'clock and they're making their way to the room where they were asked to gather and they're all realizing they don't know why they're there.  
  
they sit down at the table, lewis at its head. nasa's new director stands in front of a computer and he's shaking. his glasses are askew and he's humming, quiet. "hello," he says.  
  
lewis nods and asks, "why are we here, exactly?"  
  
"um, well. god. sorry, i figured they'd have told you over the phone."  
  
martinez frowns and shakes his head. "they didn't tell us anything. or, they didn't tell me, at least." he looks back at the others as if to affirm they haven't heard anything different. johanssen shakes her head, vogel shrugs, beck frowns.  
  
"that's... okay. well, i have some news."  
  
beck grips johanssen's hand under the table. vogel and martinez shift forward in their seats and lewis cocks her head, curious. the room is quiet.  
  
"i- i didn't realize it'd be this difficult," he's sweating. he dabs at his forehead with a handkerchief. "i guess i'll have to be blunt here. there's no point skirting around it. mark watney didn't die on sol 6."  
  
johanssen sucks in a swollen breath, grips beck's hand tight and he grips hers back. martinez falls back in his seat and vogel whispers something in german. lewis doesn't seem to get it. "what do you mean?"  
  
"he... well, as you know our most recent ares mission just returned and we'd planned to, y'know, have them stop on their way to their mission site at the ares three site and hopefully recover a body, or something. we also wanted to collect samples of experiments done in that location, and hopefully continue to use some of the soil for future experiments. that kind of stuff. but the mission crew noticed some things and we didn't want to say anything, until they'd gotten back and we could discuss it, but-"  
  
"what did they find?" vogel says. his voice is quiet, airy. martinez sits still with a hand to his mouth and lewis is trying to look passive and beck and johanssen are holding hands so tight their fingers hurt.  
  
"well, they found the hab, buried under tons of sand. they managed to dig and get inside it, and it was pretty much destroyed but everything inside was still there. they found- they found some potatoes, which they messaged us about from the ground. that was their first clue that something was off. they found several cut pieces of hab canvas and duct tape, stuff like that."  
  
beck clenches his free hand. he's breathing hard and he doesn't believe it, can't believe it. mark couldn't have lived past sol 6, he couldn't have and he didn't because that would mean they'd left him there, alone, and beck can't take that, knowing they left him there. he says, "so, you don't know he lived, then? that stuff is purely coincidental, and-"  
  
"there's more, dr. beck. i- i'm sorry. they didn't find his body, after a few hours, so they gave up on that. they left the hab and they looked around a bit and found the rover. it was on its side and buried and they found the rtg inside. the one you guys buried far away from the hab, that rtg. and they also... found this drive." he holds up a drive, almost as big as his hand. "i'm so sorry. the drive, it doesn't match our current operating systems. the drive ports in our new os are much smaller, so they couldn't access the material on the drive from any of their devices. we didn't know what was on it until they got back and... well, we plugged the drive into an old computer last week."  
  
lewis says, her voice cracking, "what's on the drive?" she seems apprehensive, as though she knows what he's about to say but doesn't want to hear it.  
  
"he recorded logs," he says, and there it is. the five grow still, eyes wide in disbelief, in frustration, in grief. "for many sols. many sols. he updated almost every day. i watched them and i- i must say he seems like a wonderful man and i'm so sorry i had to break this news to you."  
  
beck ducks his head and he's crying and johanssen puts a hand over her mouth. martinez shakes his head, again and again, and he's crying too. vogel looks as though he might throw up. and lewis, lewis looks straight at the wall, eyes wet with tears. she's gripping tight to the arm rests of her chair as though afraid she might fall.  
  
"would you like to see them?"  
  
the crew looks up, eyes watering, arms shaking. they all meet his gaze and it's lewis who says, "yes."  
  
he plugs the drive into an old laptop and sets it in front of them. they gather at the head of the table. he points out where, on the drive, watney'd saved lewis's disco music. he'd labeled the file 'sin'. lewis laughs. she wipes at her eyes and he asks if they're ready and they say yes and he clicks on the 'logs' file and mark's face pops up. "i'm pretty much fucked," he says, and they're all crying.  
  
he explains how he survived and they all can't believe it, don't want to believe it. he says he doesn't blame them and lewis shakes her head, slightly. he seems hopeless, figetty. the next day, he seems better. he's got a plan and with each log he's more sure of himself. problems arise but he solves them, because he's smart. really fucking smart. he jokes and he laughs and each time he mentions one of them they start to cry, even harder.  
  
they hold their breath each time his life hangs in the balance, even though they know. they know he dies in the end. they don't think about that.  
  
he sets out on a journey, gets the rtg. later, he sets out to find pathfinder. this he's really excited about. he's happy and excited and for the first time he seems like he's actually letting himself feel hopeful. his hope's infectious, so infectious the crew almost forgets how this ends. the crew believes that he'll find pathfinder and it'll work and he'll come back safe and sound.

a few logs later. he sits in the hab. he's sweaty and tired and he's trying not to cry. "so, yeah," he says. he breathes in, breathes out. "pathfinder didn't work. i don't know where to go from here. i'm just gonna go sleep, i guess. it doesn't really matter what i do from here on out, anyway." he smiles, half-hearted. beck whispers, "fuck," and martinez looks down at his hands and vogel does the same.  
  
the logs continue. he gets thinner and thinner and thinner. he still laughs, still jokes, but he's not himself. he eats less and less and when the airlock breaks, he fixes it, but he seems to consider just leaving it broken, walking in the hab suitless and just letting the martian atmosphere take him. wouldn't be so bad.  
  
many logs later. he turns the camera on, smiles. "hello," he says. "i wasn't gonna log today. but... i guess i wanted to say goodbye." johanssen gasps and vogel makes a noise and lewis mutters, "oh my god." 

mark continues, "i know these logs aren't exactly... i'm not talking to a person, really. but i still feel like i should say goodbye. this may be my last log. my food sources are dwindling. i've got food but... i don't think it's worth it. it's not enough to sustain me for long, and i'm already in bad shape. i don't see the point in dragging this on when there's no chance of me getting off this planet, anyway. i've got a vial of morphine sitting out on the counter. i might take that. it'd be fast, and painless. if not that, i might just not eat. or maybe i'll eat, but it doesn't matter, because i'll die anyway. whatever the case, i don't think i'll be logging, anymore. i doubt anyone will find these. but, if someone does, years from now, just know i- i love what i do. i died for something worthwhile and i love my family and i love the crew and this wasn't their fault. it wasn't their fault. it was just shit luck." he pauses, wipes at his eyes with a shaking hand. "also, if you could... please tell mars to fuck itself. that sounds like a dumb request but i want mars to know it sucks. it really fucking sucks. okay. okay, that's all. bye, i guess." he gives the camera a nod. he lingers for a moment, finger hovering just over the end log key, and he's shaking and looking at the camera, eyes wide and pleading. he taps the key. the screen goes dark.   
  
the crew is quiet. lewis is covering her face with her hands and martinez and vogel are trying not to cry, but failing, ultimately, and beck just looks broken. johanssen puts her head on the table.  
  
they stay that way for hours, and when its finally time for them to leave they do, and they're asked if they'd like to keep the drive but they say no. so they leave and they all head for the airport and they hug and cry and they don't say a thing. they take separate flights and they go home and two days later, johanssen's phone lights up. it's a message from lewis.  
  
_it's my fault._  
  
johanssen types back _it's not_ and then she sets her phone down, goes to the bathroom and cries. beck comes in and holds her tight. he cries with her.  
  
martinez watches the press release with his wife and kids and he tells them stories, tells them about the mark watney he knew and loved.

vogel does the same, with his kids. he tells them stories and he cries a little, while he's at it.

lewis blames herself but she's still happy she got to see those logs. her husband plays her some disco while he drives her to the doctor's one morning and she starts laughing. her husband doesn't know why but she's completely hysterical, laughing, and she tells him why eventually and he laughs too.

they all grieve in their own ways, in five different parts of the world. they cry and they mourn and they remember.

**Author's Note:**

> okay this was very rushed and there are probably a ton of errors but i hope you enjoyed! i'm sorry the science/logistics of this are probably way off


End file.
